IdleHanded Breaker
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day 854a: While Brittany and Santana are on their honeymoon, Quinn is left on her own to look after the interests of Trinity.


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 40th cycle. Now cycle 41!_

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><p><em><strong>INTRODUCING "CHEAT SHEET" - <strong>If you want to know ahead of time when a certain series will be updated next, just reassemble the link below and check out the list, save it, print it, bookmark it, whatever you need!  
>Go to: <span>gleekathon [dot] tumblr [dot] com [slash] cheatsheet<span>_

_** UPDATED WITH CYCLE 41 CHEAT SHEET ** Check it out to find out about **shift days**, starting in cycle 41!_

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><p><em><strong>This is a shift day [see above].<strong> There will be another upload this afternoon: Flying Solo, chapter 7._

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><p><strong>"Idle-Handed Breaker"<br>****(Older) Quinn (+ Brittany/Santana), Rachel; Quinn/Spencer (OC)  
><strong>**Trinity Series #10 (following 'Not one more year without' and 'Who needs paradise when I've got you?') **

After Santana and Brittany had left for their honeymoon, the guests gone and the house cleaned, Quinn had crashed for a much needed sleep, New Year's Day disappearing away. Waking up to the silent, empty house, she remembered the two of them were away, they had no Trinity job, and she didn't have to go in to the paper until next week… So she had nothing to do.

She was not one to sit by and do nothing, even on vacation. She could sit with a book like any other person, but if there was no before or after, just a long stretch of nothing, she couldn't do it.

Then, slowly, memories of New Year's Eve came back to her, and it made her think she did actually have things to do, or at least people to see… issues to clear up. There were two of them, one of a more business-oriented nature, and the other halfway between business and personal.

Bringing Winger anywhere near their families and friends had been a risky move, though not for the obvious reasons. They had long established he wasn't dangerous. Nosy and annoying at times, yes, but not a danger. Having him at the wedding, their real concern was the possibility of their secret coming out, unbound… but in a very strange way he was a friend, and they wanted him there. Afterward, with the revelation of 'Winger + Catalina,' she had a feeling Santana was reviewing her definition of 'friend.'

She'd looked for him at his 'office/store' and found it uncharacteristically closed down. She could have let it go, but she had nothing better to do, and she did need to touch base, so she'd done a bit of research and found his home address. She didn't want to think anything of his absence, but in their business it could mean more. So one debate on using the info or not later, she'd headed there. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it was a house, the word 'quaint' came to mind… She'd never seen those two ideas, of Winger and quaint in the same environment; it was almost unsettling, and still it made her smile. She went up and rang the doorbell.

"Who's there?" his voice came over from intercom… and now she could believe it was his house.

"You're a tough man to find," she scanned the house front, experienced eyes spotting the hidden camera; she waved, and she could almost see him frozen at whatever console he'd have in there. The intercom had given a static noise and gone silent. Five seconds later, the door slid open. She could see part of him… the messy wonder of hair, glasses, t-shirt… terror.

"How'd you know where I… Wait, never mind."

"Winger, if you had to be scared of me, you'd know, believe me. Now can I come in? I just want to talk."

"Talk, right, talk…" he nodded awkwardly. She frowned, detecting… something… like he didn't want her to come in. "Okay, what is it?" he nodded.

"Are you okay?" At her words, he stood up straight, tried to look at ease.

"Of course, you know? I'm doing… laundry…" his words trailed. She had a flash, and she barely had to nudge to push him aside and walk in. "If you want to talk, why don't we sit in here, this room, here," he pointed to the right. She paused, turning to look at him with a smirk; he inhaled, flinching.

"Catalina, sweetie, you want to come out here?" she called out, still looking at him. He tried to keep a straight face, but when that flinched, Quinn knew when she turned she'd find the girl had stepped out.

"Hey… Quinn…" she nodded to herself, turning around, and there was Catalina, in another of Winger's t-shirts and, from the looks of it, not much else.

"Oh, wow…" Quinn nodded. "I knew you when you were five, no big deal…" She was much more disturbed by the image in her head than the image in front of her.

"Please… don't tell Santana?"

"Isn't she okay with this now?" Quinn asked.

"Not with this…" she mimed at her current attire, or lack thereof.

"Right, about… that… Can we add pants to this?" Quinn begged. Catalina gave a nod and disappeared. Quinn turned back to Winger, trying and failing to hold back laughter. "So she didn't go home yet?" Winger shook his head. "Staying with you?" He nodded; she smirked, shook her head. "She's going to kill you."

"I knew it…" he cringed.

"You know what? We'll talk when the others get back, it can wait, seeing as you're… otherwise occupied," she whispered.

"Are you going to call her?" he tailed after her. "Quinn? Please don't call her…"

"She's on her honeymoon. If I call her she'll kill me. Be good, Winger." And with that, she left the house. She could only hope this good mood would boost her courage about the second conversation, which she honestly dreaded.

She'd told Rachel the – partial – truth about herself and Trinity, not because she'd wanted to but because the choice was out of her hands the moment Rachel confronted her with what she'd found. If she hadn't told her then, on top of running Brittany and Santana's wedding, she'd risk them being exposed, and Rachel and others being in danger, too. She'd only told her enough to make her understand she had to wait, promising she'd tell her the rest later. She hoped not giving her the runaround would help matters.

She debated where they should be. In public was out of the question, considering the subject. Rachel's place could mean Puck overhearing, but at the same time it would keep Rachel in familiar grounds. She knew she could count on her discretion. They had both grown so much, from those girls in high school, now she had Trinity, and Rachel had Broadway… but deep down they would always understand each other… she hoped.

She called and asked if they could talk, in private. Rachel must have thought of her problems with a public meet, as she informed her Puck was at work and would be until much later. Quinn said she'd come over. The drive was spent trying and failing to find what she'd say. Santana and Brittany still had no idea Rachel knew any part of it, but she had to hope they'd trust she knew what she was doing.

When she arrived she was greeted by a Rachel with a face very similar to the one from a couple days ago, where she tried to be supportive but, inside, showed fear. Quinn was led into the dining room, finding the table covered in swatches and samples… paint colors, fabric and wallpaper patterns… She smiled.

"Getting an early start on the nursery?"

"I know we've got… months, but…." it couldn't keep her from smiling.

"You don't even know if it's a boy or a girl yet," Quinn smirked.

"No, but I can still look around," she shrugged, then looked back to Quinn. "But you didn't come here to talk about interior design," the swatches were put down.

"I owe you a talk," Quinn confirmed and they sat, in silence at first. Rachel preceded her and Quinn got to see what scared the brunette the most, more than the criminal part.

"You've been hurt in this? You said so…" she breathed, then nodded to Quinn. "Show me," she demanded. Quinn hesitated. Her scars were her own demons, unavoidable even if she could cover them with clothes most times. "Please?" Rachel asked.

After a moment, Quinn pulled off her shirt, leaving a sleeveless underneath but exposing her arms. Rachel stood to come closer and she saw the long scar running up her right arm, carefully inspected it.

"I saw… I had no idea it ran so high…" her voice trembled, and Quinn couldn't see the other scar instilling more ease in her. She could sense her walking around the chair, and her hand holding to her left arm. She closed her eyes. "Quinn…" her voice crumbled. "Is that… that's a gunshot wound…"

"Doesn't hurt anymore," she promised, looked back to her. "Please, sit down," she guided her back to her chair.

"Quinn, I don't like this," Rachel sat. "It's dangerous, I mean those…" she pointed to her arms and Quinn put her shirt back on. "It's not you…"

"It's been me, for years. You've known me in that time, have I been anything beside the one you've known? All three of us, we've been ourselves…"

"How is that better? You've been lying to all of us for years and none of us even noticed? That's not a good thing," her voice had stopped being controlled.

"The less everyone knows, the better," Quinn maintained.

"That's crap!" Rachel couldn't hold back, not that Quinn expected her to. "You're walking around with these scars like it's okay, but it's not!"

"I have to cover up all the time," Quinn cut in. "I don't like that, I hate it," she insisted. "But that's not everything. Now if you'd just let me talk…"

"It's not going to make me okay with this," Rachel shook her head.

"I understand," Quinn promised, then waited for Rachel to look ready to let her talk. When she did, Quinn took a moment, and she started telling her the long story, starting these jobs on her own, then the story of the long scar, which had brought Brittany and Santana into the loop, and then how they had become Trinity. "What it comes down to is… we're helping people, doing things they couldn't do. If you saw what it brings to them… It's joy… We were in Glee Club once, you know. This is a different kind of glee, of joy."

"No, I actually get that part, as much as I hate to say it. But… why do you do it? I don't mean your client thing. Why are you guys willing to put your lives on the line? You could get put in prison, you could get killed… Think about Brittany and Santana, they just got married. What would it do to one of them if the other got killed?" Quinn sighed, sitting up.

"I'm not going to speak for them, that's their business, but… I do it… I guess the first time it was just so small, it didn't seem like much, and then it was a bigger job, and bigger, and it happened so gradually that… it was just who I'd become. I don't regret it."

"Ever?" Rachel asked, and Quinn finally saw her anger had gone away. And now a one-word question had made her think…

After she left Rachel's, she went back home, and of all people, it had to be him, standing in the building's lobby, waiting. She saw him and she had to smile. "I was going to leave a note…" Spencer stood, smiling back at her.

"Glad you stayed," she went on smiling. "What brings you here?"

"Missed you is all," he shrugged. She came to stand right in front of him, leaving him the chance to lean in and kiss her.

"So did I," she admitted.

When Rachel had asked if she'd ever regretted this life, his face had appeared in her mind, no time needed. This life, this job, it made her cautious where he was involved. She barely knew him, but she didn't want him getting hurt, couldn't bear the thought. At the wedding, things had changed, she couldn't hold back, but outside of the magic of that day she had to face reality, two of them. The first was that nothing had changed, the dangers were still there… but the other reality was she was falling in love, and that wasn't going away.

"So… I've got no roommates right now, and a lot of wedding dinner leftovers. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who could help me with that?" she asked. He wanted to smile, but he was going to play along first.

"I do have a monstrous appetite," he admitted. "But there needs to be cake." She laughed.

"There's cake," she confirmed.

"Then I am at your service."

Dinner had turned into a long conversation, heading into the wee hours. Even with the wedding, this was the longest time they'd spent together. She had not said a thing of the secret, no mention of other things in her past, and yet she felt they did get to know each other better… and she had no idea how to ever let him go.

THE END

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><p><strong>AN: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
><strong>**In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
><strong>******always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!******


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